Fatal Series 01 - Fatal Affair

minute,” she said, clearly trying to maintain her composure and brace herself for what she was about to hear. “Can I get you anything?”
    “No,” Nick said. “Thank you.”
    “Come into the living room,” she said, leading the way.
    The house was elegant but comfortable, not a show place but a home—a place where Nick had always been made to feel right at home.
    “Something’s wrong,” Carrie whispered.
    Nick reached for her hand and held it between both of his. He sat that way, with Carrie on one side of him and Sam on the other, until they heard the others come in through the kitchen.
    Hand-in-hand, John’s parents, Graham and Laine O’Connor, entered the room with their son Terry and daughter Lizbeth trailing behind them. Graham and Laine, both nearly eighty, were as fit and trim as people half their age. They had snow-white hair and year-round tans from spending most of their time riding horses. When they saw Nick, they lit up with delight.
    He released Carrie’s hand and got up to greet them both with hugs. Terry shook his hand and Lizbeth went up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He introduced them to Sam.
    “What’re you doing here?” Graham asked. “Isn’t the vote today?”
    Nick glanced down at the floor, took a second to summon the fortitude to say what needed to be said, and then looked back at them. “Come sit down.”
    “What’s going on, Nick?” Laine asked in her lilting Southern accent, refusing to be led to a seat. “You don’t look right. Is something wrong with John?”
    Her mother’s intuition had beaten him to the punch.
    “I’m afraid so.”
    Laine gasped. Her husband reached for her hand, and right before Nick’s eyes, the formidable Graham O’Connor wilted.
    “He was late for work today.”
    “That’s nothing new,” Lizbeth said with a sisterly snicker. “He’ll be late for his own funeral.”
    Nick winced at her choice of words. “We couldn’t reach him, so I went over there to wake him up.”
    “Damned foolish of him to be sleeping late on a day like this,” Graham huffed.
    “We thought so, too,” Nick conceded, his stomach clutching with nausea and despair. “When I got there…”
    “What?” Laine whispered, reaching out to grip Nick’s arm. “What?”
    Nick couldn’t speak over the huge lump that lodged in his throat.
    Sam stood up. “Senator, Mrs. O’Connor, I’m so very sorry to have to tell you that your son’s been murdered.”
    Nick knew if he lived forever, he would never forget the keening wail that came from John’s mother as Sam’s words registered. He reached for Laine when it seemed like she might faint. Instead, she folded like a house of cards into his arms.
    Carrie kept saying, “No, no, no,” over and over again.
    With Lizbeth crying softly behind him and Terry’s eyes glassy with tears and shock, Graham turned to Sam. “How?”
    “He was stabbed in his bed.”
    Nick, who continued to hold the sobbing Laine, was grateful that Sam didn’t tell them the rest. He eased Laine down to the sofa.
    “Who would want to kill my John? My beautiful, sweet John?”
    “We’re going to find out,” Sam said.
    “Sam is the lead detective on the case,” Nick told them.
    “Excuse me,” Graham mumbled as he turned and rushed from the room.
    “Go with him, Terry,” Laine said. “Please go with him.”
    Terry followed his father.
    Lizbeth sat down on the arm of the sofa next to her mother. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “What will I tell the kids?”
    Painfully aware of how close John was to his niece and nephew, Nick looked up at her with sympathy.
    “That he had an accident,” Laine said, wiping her face. “Not that he was killed. You can’t tell them that.”
    “No,” Lizbeth agreed. “I can’t.”
    Laine raised her head off Nick’s shoulder. “Where is he now?” she asked Sam.
    “With the medical examiner.”
    “I want to see him.” Laine wiped furiously at the tears that continued to spill down her unlined cheeks. “I want to see my child.”
    “I’ll arrange it tomorrow,” Sam said.
    Laine turned to Nick. “There’ll be a funeral befitting a United States senator.”
    “Of course.”
    “You’ll see to it personally.”
    “Anything you want or need, Laine. You only have to ask.”
    She clasped his hand and looked at him with shattered eyes. “Who would do this, Nick? Who would do this to our John?”
    “I’ve been asking myself that question for hours and can’t think of